


The Worlds Between Us

by aihyuri



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Kokichi Survives, M/M, Oma Kokichi Needs a Hug, Spoilers, THE END IS HAPPY I SWEAR, postgame, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27871422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aihyuri/pseuds/aihyuri
Summary: "You’re Saihara Shuichi, the same person they made you to be. It’s like.. You weren’t in that disgusting game at all.”Kokichi Ouma, the King of Liars, never signed up for any of this. Why does it seem like everyone else has already moved on, when he still hasn't?
Relationships: Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 63





	The Worlds Between Us

“..So, uh, is there anything you need, before I go?”

I can feel Shuichi staring at me, his gaze almost piercing through my skin. Just another reminder of how much bolder he’s gotten since the academy. God.. even he, emo boy supreme, has changed for the better. 

I pick at the tablecloth and ignore him. The silence is thick and suffocating, choking me like I’m being buried alive. But it’s not as if I even know what that feels like, huh? Maybe he does. Did. Is it weird to refer to your old self in the third person? Then again, it’s not like we’re really the same. Two people, one body. One mind, at least on the surface. Blegh. I feel violated, almost like Iruma is back making her nasty comments to my disgusted face. Take a hint, self. I chastise my brain. Thinking about the past will only make things worse.

Shuichi sighs. Our life seems to be filled with sighs lately, but I suppose that’s mostly my fault. Always making mistakes, always pushing the limits. Yet he never gives up on trying to figure me out. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

“Actually, yes, my beloved~!!” My voice is forced and saccharine, just a note too high and unnatural, “Can you pleease get me some cake? I’ll die if I don’t have some soon!” Who knows, maybe I will.

I avoid the urge to glance up and see his reaction, my grip tightening on the stitched fabric in front of me.

“Alright, sounds good.” His hand moves to adjust his hat, before he realizes it’s not there anymore. I can see him stiffen up. But whatever, I keep silent. Kokichi Ouma? Silent? More likely than you’d think, folks. Ha. Ha. Shuichi stands up and starts towards the door.

“Saihara-chan is real.” The words come out unwillingly, my mouth running instinctively without any thought. Real? What’s that even supposed to mean? 

He pauses and glances back at me, his face like, “Huh?” I look away.

“Y’know.. Real,” I struggle to piece together the words. It’s hard to explain, really, more of a feeling than anything concrete. “You’re Saihara Shuichi, the same person they made you to be. It’s like.. You weren’t in that disgusting game at all.” Tears threaten to spill out. I hate crying. I hate this.

It’s easy to tell he doesn’t know how to respond. Who would? My sentences don’t even make sense nowadays, no matter how hard I try. Why does he even stay? I don’t even have the will to go outside anymore. I’m just a ghost.

“Come on, answer! Are you stupid or something?” I taunt him, my chest tightening up more with every second that passes, but he still doesn’t speak. Why does that anger me so much? Please, just pay attention. Just try to understand. I know you’re more than this. But my internal pleading changes nothing.

Shuichi turns around to face me and leans back against the wall, hands in his pockets like he’s some sort of cool guy. Momota flashes through my brain before I smother the thought, and he finally talks, although hesitantly. Very on brand with him.

“Well, even if they made me, even if everything I know and believe is fake.. It’s still me, right? I mean, this current me. But this current me is all that matters, I guess…”

Somehow, this is more of a letdown than anything. It’s all fake. Fake positivity, fake hope, fake happiness. I want to believe, I always wanted to, no matter what the others said. But it feels so sickening, like someone shoving their idiotic propaganda down my throat, and I just can’t.

Shuichi can tell, somehow, that his answer wasn’t good enough. I can see the conflicting emotions playing across his face, sadness and frustration and something else I can’t quite name. Am I really that easy to figure out nowadays? Whatever happened to the Kokichi everyone hated?

This time, Shuichi’s voice is softer, more broken than before, “Sorry, it’s just...” I try my hardest to avoid looking directly at him, to just let him talk, “It’s hard. Every day I feel so horrible, and who wouldn’t, really? Even with all your jokes I know you feel the same way.” 

Ah, of course. The ex detective is so very good at knowing what’s wrong. Sigh. Shuichi turns his head to look out the smudged window at the cityscape stretching out just beyond us.

“I keep thinking about the life I’ve lived until now, and how none of it’s real. How everything I feel and remember is just another leftover entertainment factor straight from their programming,” He takes a shuddering breath, and I almost feel sorry for making him spill his guts out. Almost. “I don’t think anyone could accept that so easily. But I have Ouma-kun here with me, right?” 

He has... Me? My eyes widen and our gazes meet. Tears are spilling down his cheeks like floodwater, and his eyes are filled with a deep sadness, but I see hope in his brave smile. And for some reason, for once, my idiotic heart believes it.

“Because of you, I feel real. I feel like things will be okay if we only try, I know we can do this. I know you can make it.” He walks forward and holds his hand out to me, paralleling the way he had so long ago. I hesitantly take it in mine. 

“You’re really something, partner,” My voice is hoarse, and he laughs.

“So are you.” 

We stay like that for a second too long, and I clear my throat, retracting my hand. He startles a bit, shakes his head and turns around yet again with a smile still on his face. 

“Hey, Ouma-kun?” His nearly giddy tone betrays his calm demeanor. 

“Yeah…?” I can feel my heart skip a beat. Shut up.

“What flavor cake do you want?”

I grin to myself as well instead of answering, but this time our silence isn’t as suffocating. He knows what he said made a difference. And even though trusting in someone like this feels weird, I let go. Maybe things will be okay after all.


End file.
